The Player In The Game
by Mountain King
Summary: It's one of the most infamous open cases in the FBI. Every few decades people in cities around the country turn up headless. It usually stops as quickly as it starts with no warning, and now bodies are turing up in Washington DC. Booth and Brennon are assigned to the case, and seek the help of weapons expert Adam Pearson to identify the antique swords found at the crime scenes.


The Player in the Game

Introduction:-

Think of this as testing the waters. Bones is one of those shows that I was interested in but never got round to seeing. Well, eventually I found a box set of the first season going cheep. Watched it and I did like the show. Looking to change gears I decided to try a quick story in this universe.

If you want me to continue leave a review, if I get enough interest there is more I could do. Other wise I feel this could still stand alone. Sort of.

Disclaimer:-

I do not own any of the characters used here. Bones is owned by 20th Century Fox and Highlander by Gaumont

* * *

You could hear the sound of steel against steel echoing off the buildings. Booth pulled the car to a stop, the wheels screeching as they struggled against the wet road. It had been raining all night and the roads were slick. He nearly lost it, but the car stopped just in time before they collided with a dumpster.

'Bones, stay in the… Bones!' He shouted as his partner opened the door. She didn't even wait for the car to stop. This case had her confused, she'd been muttering about conflicting evidence and impossibilities since this whole mess stated. She didn't like being confused. Neither did he, but he was the one carrying a gun.

Slamming the door Booth weighed the risk of drawing his weapon as he chased after her. The only thing more stupid than running with a loaded weapon was pointing one needlessly. It might look cool on TV, but in real life there was nothing awesome about accidentally shooting some bystander that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Keeping his hand on his holster the pair of them ran into the abandoned construction site they'd tracked the killer to.

There had been three bodies, each turing up in isolated spots like this one and all with their heads chopped off. What made these cases extra weird was each victim was not only found with an antique sword, that wasn't the murder weapon, but with massive electrical burns. To the body and to the crime scene with no explanation, in one case there wasn't even power nearby.

'Bones!' He called. 'We don't know what the hell we're walking into here.'

Her hair was already plastered to her face from the rain. 'Up there!' She pointed and Booth used his free hand to wipe his brow. On the scaffolding there was a flash of light. At first he guessed it was a sword catching a refection from the streetlights, but a shower of sparks flew off as two blades clashed against each other.

'What are they using up there, cattle prods?' he asked.

'Hodgkins already ruled that out and there were no signs, post mortem, of electrical burns to the skin, or the bones.' She reminded him as they ran for the ladder.

'Right, I'll go first. You stay here.' He told her. 'Look I know you want to go up there…'

'… No. You're right. You have the gun.' She agreed. 'Although I would at some time like to re-visit the idea of carrying my own weapon.'

'Is this really the… No. Last time you nearly broke your wrist.' He argued.

She tilted her head. 'Well perhaps a smaller gun, or one with more bullets?'

'Psychos hacking each other into little pieces with swords Bones. Is now really the time?'

'Good point.' With that, the closest thing to a victory he was going to get, Booth scrambled up the ladder. Really not happy about the driving rain. Poking his head above and onto the scaffolding he got his first good look. There were two men; one tall, thin and wearing a long trench coat. The other was shorter, more muscular and had a oversized raincoat.

The thin man was faster, even from here and with his limited knowledge Booth could see he was better. Shortie was swinging wide, like a baseball player going for a home run. Booth had seen enough films to know that was a bad move.

It was only a matter of time. Shortie slipped on a puddle and lost his footing. Giving the thin guy the opportunity. With a move too fast for Booth to follow he chopped shortie's hand off, sending the sword flying into the night. With a howl of pain shortie fell to his knees.

'No. No!' He spat, clutching his stump as the thin man rested his sword on one shoulder. 'You won't. You can't!'

'There can be only one.' Thin said, it sounded practiced. Almost like a ritual. It also sounded almost familiar.

'Pearson?' Booth gasped, recognising the voice. With a quick flick of his wrist Pearson followed through, beheading the short guy. The sword had to be razor sharp to do something like that. Climbing the last few feet Booth swore under his breath. He should have seen this. 'Pearson! FBI! Freeze.'

'Agent Booth.' Pearson turned, 'Stay back!'

Drawing his gun Booth checked his breathing. 'Doctor Pearson, you're under arrest. Drop the sword.' He ordered.

'Agent Booth, Steeley, you don't know what's going on. It's dangerous for you to be up here!'

'I'll decide what's dangerous.' Booth told him as something caught his eye. 'Now… drop… the…' The body was glowing. The headless body was glowing. A soft blue light that seemed to be hovering just above the empty neck. 'What the hell?'

'Run! Steely, this could be…' he broke off. A tendril of lighting flew out to Pearson's leg. It was like it had a mind of it's own. Two more flew out, striking him again and again.

'What is happening?' Booth shouted over the rain and the crackle of energy.

Now the lightning was all over him, arcing from Pearson to the scaffold and back. The rain was somehow suddenly worse, pounding down like a storm. The street lights above exploded as more lightning struck them.

Below Bones was calling his name as Booth tried to keep away from the charged metal. There weren't many places worse to be than half way up scaffolding in the middle of a thunderstorm and that's what this felt like.

Not too far away Booth's car growled back to life. It's headlights on full, lighting up the structure. Reflections of the road bathing Pearson as he stood there in the middle of the storm. He continued to scream, but pointed his sword at Booth. For a moment he thought Pearson was trying to control the lighting. Sending it at him. Then he realised it was the opposite. Somehow he was pulling the electricity into himself.

'Booth! Booth!' Bones called out again.

'Run! He called back over the storm. 'Get out of here!' Before she could argue Pearson roared. Louder than even the storm. Pulling the sword back you could see the energy flowing into him. Even the rain changed direction, like something was sucking everything towards the swordsman.

Then it stopped, even the constant driving rain drops seemed to freeze in mid air. Like the universe itself was holding it's breath. Pearson threw his head back and screamed; 'The Quickening!'

Booth had half a heartbeat to realise what was going to happen. 'Oh crap.' He swore as the whole place exploded. Only it didn't.

Booth had been blown up before, it went with the job. Usually there was fire, lots and lots of fire. This time it was just the shockwave, hitting like a freight train. He was thrown from his feet, literally blasting his shoes off, as he flew back.

The next thing he knew he was on his back. A shooting pain running across his back and his ears ringing. 'Booth, Booth are you with me?'

'Bones? Is that you?' He asked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

'How many fingers am I holding up?' she asked. It took him a moment to close one eye.

'What's a number between four and six?' he raised his head only stop half way.

'Five.' she told him. 'Don't try to move, you may have injured your spine and or scapula. Perhaps seriously. I also suspect you've damaged your cranium. A concussion. You have to stay awake. I'm calling for an ambulance.'

Groaning Booth breathed slowly. 'Where's Pearson, did he survive?'

'Professor Pearson? What about him?' She asked, dialling on her cell.

'He was here. He was the other guy.' Booth told her

She looked back. 'Whoever it was, they exploded. There's no human way anyone could have survived that.'

'Oh, he survived.' Booth sighed still seeing stars. 'I know he did.'

* * *

Methos watched as the ambulance arrived and Agent Booth was lifted in. Even from his hiding spot he could see the stubborn Agent was still awake and talking to Dr Brennon, who was hovering over him like a mother hen.

As soon as the Agent was upwardly mobile he'd run a search. It was only a matter of time before the team at the Jeffersonian pointed a very large and very bright light into the life of one Professor Adam Pearson. Which was a shame, he liked being Adam, but he already had back up identities ready.

He had enough money hidden away to lay low for a decade or so. That's about how long this was going to take to blow over. Hiding his sword in his coat Methos pulled his collar up and slipped away. As soon as the good Agent could manage it the roads would be closed and he needed to be well away from Washington before that.


End file.
